


Pennies and Dimes for a Kiss

by girlpearl



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Eavesdropping, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Phone Sex, Podfic Welcome, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlpearl/pseuds/girlpearl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There aren't a lot of jobs that an 18-year-old high school dropout is qualified for, especially if he's trying to make rent and help get his band off the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pennies and Dimes for a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to melusina as ever for the beta-read! Having written a strip club AU with no stripping in it, I guess I felt like I should write a phone sex operator AU with... no phone sex. Sorry.

The thing is, he could totally have asked his parents for money, but he kind of feels bad enough already; he definitely played them against each other and used their divorce to manipulate them into letting him tour with Fall Out Boy before he'd finished his junior year of high school. So when Patrick needs to come up with his share of the rent for the shady-ass apartment he's sharing with Pete and Joe, he decides he needs to get a job.

The problem is, all of the jobs he's qualified for a) take up way too much time b) pay way too little or c) both. Mostly c. Which is all to say that when he finds the ad in the "work from home" section of craigslist, he jumps on it.

_**Are you good on the phone-flexible schedule (City of Chicago)**_  
 _Downtown, Lincoln Park firm is seeking customer service representatives_  
 _Must be great on the phone, making cold and warm calls_  
 _Work from home position, could be part-time or full-time_  
 _Full training and support provided_  
 _Outgoing personality_  
 _Someone eager to learn and make great money_  
 _Must be very motivated--earning potential $500-1500/week_  
 _Some previous experience helpful but willingness to learn and an open mind are more important_

_Please send resume if interested, we are hiring immediately_

So Patrick maintains that there's no way he could've known from reading the ad that he was applying to be a phone sex operator. He figured it was telemarketing, maybe insurance sales or home security--although, in retrospect, he's not sure that would've been any more respectable or less degrading. But he'd sent in his resume, and he'd gotten called in for an interview, and once he was there, well, he'd already gone all the way downtown, and it would've felt rude to just walk off, and he didn't have anything better going that morning, and it seemed like, you know, it was probably worth it to stick around and hear what they had to say. What they had to say, it turned out, was $2.99 a minute, with Patrick taking home 30¢ of that. Even if he only got 10 hours of call time a week, he'd still have more than enough to pay rent. Besides, he reasons, it's not all that different from what he does on stage. He's just using his voice to pretend to be someone else, someone that people would want to talk to.

It turns out, he's actually pretty good at it.

He sets up his shifts so that he's working when Pete and Joe are out of the apartment, and before long he's got a couple of regulars and a handful of devoted perverts who really want to believe that he's 15. He tries not to think about that much, refuses to say he's underage but talks about homework and chores and gosh, he's never done anything like this, don't you think we're going to get in trouble? It's almost sad how little he has to vary the script for these guys, and he has to be careful to keep from sounding bored.

The regulars are different; they all want to know him, want to pretend like they're special to him. They ask details about his life and ask him what he likes, and Patrick keeps notes for each of them, gets to be different people whenever one of them calls.

For Dave the banker, Patrick's a student, supplementing his work-study income when his roommate's out of the dorm. He loves blowjobs and wants to study abroad in Germany next year.

For Jerry the security guard, Patrick's a photographer who moved to Chicago to get away from the backwards small town he grew up in, and he really wants Jerry to spank him.

For Blaine, an insurance salesman, Patrick's just a guy trying to pay down some debts. Blaine doesn't even want to fuck him, just wants to watch as he fucks Blaine's boyfriend.

It's actually kind of fun, if a little sleazy, and Patrick thinks there are worse things he could be doing for money not-entirely-legally.

Patrick is on the phone with a new client (with the potential to become a regular, he hopes) when it happens. It's Thursday night, which means Joe is at work and Pete is at his parents' for dinner. It's been slow so far, but he's still got a couple of hours left in his shift, and he's hoping it'll pick up later--but just in case, he's trying to keep his current customer on the line as long as possible.

He's recycling an identity--he doesn't get paid enough to be _that_ creative, so they've already talked about how Patrick's classes are going, and if he has any plans for fall break, when the guy asks, "So, have any girls caught your eye?"

Patrick's playing a hunch when he answers, "Well... not really? I kind of think, um. Well. I might be into guys?"

It pays off; the guy (Chris, Patrick thinks. Carl? Charles? He's a dentist, Patrick knows that much) takes a deep breath and says, "Oh... yeah? What makes you think that?"

"I don't know," Patrick says, doing his best to sound reluctant, unsure. "I've just been noticing... like, my roommate..."

Carl-or-maybe-Charles chuckles, and it sounds dirty in Patrick's ear. "He's pretty good-looking, huh? What's he look like?"

"He's hot," Patrick tells him. "Like, I try not to look, but... sometimes I can't help it. He plays soccer, so he's really fit, like, muscular? But not like a freak. And he's got tattoos, you know, like he _wants_ you to stare at his arms."

"Has he ever caught you looking?" It's tempting, Patrick can hear how bad the guy wants to hear the story of the time his imaginary roommate caught him looking _with sexy results!_ but he knows better--if he saves it, he'll have something to dangle in front of the guy and keep him calling back.

"Almost," he says instead. "One time, I thought--but no, I can't even imagine what would happen!"

"Can't you?" the guy says, "what do you want to happen?"

And then Patrick's on familiar ground, telling the guy his fantasy of Patrick's fantasy of making out with his imaginary roommate. All very meta, he thinks wryly, Pete would be amused.

Maybe it's the thought of Pete--maybe it was his stupid decision to talk about his roommate--maybe it's just one of those random things your brain does, no more meaningful than a dream--but all of a sudden, Patrick realises, he's not describing some faceless, imaginary stranger. When he tells Chris (or is it Craig?) about his roommate's perfect ass, and the way he walks around way too close to naked for Patrick's peace of mind, when he talks about his brown skin damp from the shower and curling with ink, he's describing _Pete._

Which would be weird enough in and of itself, but then there's this, too: Patrick is desperately, achingly turned on.

Patrick's pretended to get off on the phone a thousand times, but he's never actually done it before, and he's not going to fucking start with Craig the lonely dentist here. By the time the call's over, though, he can't wait any more. He logs his phone off the system (cringing internally at the lost income) and moves to sit on his bed, shucking his pants as he goes.

It's over pretty quickly, really, and then Patrick's left alone with the knowledge that he just quit work early so he could jerk off thinking about Pete. _Shit_.

It's not news to Patrick that he's into guys--he's not even sure it would be news to Pete or Andy. Joe definitely knows, though Patrick's uncertain whether he'd have shared that knowledge. But _Pete_ \--Patrick can't think of a worse idea. They're in a band together _and_ they're roommates _and_ Pete's straight. Mostly. Sort of. Okay not really straight? But more… gay-to-prove-a-point, really. Pete has issues, capital-I-Issues, and his inability to commit to a sexual orientation is only one of them. Even if he were interested in Patrick, it would be... disastrous.

So Patrick's never really let himself think about it before, never let himself notice the way Pete's arms flex when he's playing, the way his hips are cut, the round swell of his ass and the deep intensity of his eyes. Well. He's never let himself _consciously_ notice that Pete is incredibly hot--obviously his brain has noticed, from the conversation he just had with Craig.

 _Whatever,_ Patrick thinks. He can't have Pete, and that's all there is to it, and that's fine--he'll just put it away and not worry about it. It's just one more thing he has to give up to get what he wants, and in the face of that, in the face of the band, _their band_ , he's not making any sacrifice at all. He'd give so much more to make this happen.

The thing is, once he's unlocked that door, it's not so easy to close it again. His brain has made the association, and now every time he's telling some sad middle-aged dude from Cleveland what he wants to be doing with him, he's thinking about what he wants to be doing with _Pete_.

Dave calls and Patrick's thinking about Pete's cock in his mouth, the way he'd look at Patrick while Patrick sucked him off.

Marco calls and Patrick's thinking about Pete fingering him, opening him up with inked, callused hands.

Jason calls and Patrick is imagining holding Pete down, hands around his wrists and Pete's legs around his waist, begging Patrick to fuck him harder.

Manny calls and Patrick's thinking about Pete's tongue, hot and wet, teasing Patrick's ass, pressing inside him, and he has to log out and jack off again before he can take another call.

So it's awkward, it's weird to think about Pete in this way but Patrick is managing it, he's keeping his shit together, he's not being weird around Pete or fooling himself that this is anything more than a passing infatuation, and then Pete goes and fucks it all up.

They're sitting around the apartment one night, a half-eaten pizza on the coffee table and an Adam Sandler movie on the television, when Pete claps his hands and leans forward. "So, big news!" he says, and something in his tone of voice catches Patrick's ear.

"What's up?" Andy asks, grabbing the remote and muting the tv.

"Patrick has a very important announcement for us," Pete says. There's a sort of forced jocularity in his voice and Patrick frowns.

"What are you--" he starts, but Pete talks over him like he's not even there.

"Yes, it's true," he intones. "Patrick has a _boyfriend_."

Joe rolls his eyes. "So?" he huffs.

Andy looks similarly unimpressed. "Yeah, I mean, congrats, Patrick, but like... who cares?"

"Uh." Patrick finds his voice. "I--I don't?"

"Yeah, none of us do, dude," Andy assures him.

"No, I mean. I don't have a boyfriend," Patrick clarifies. He honestly has no idea where Pete has gotten this idea.

"Yeah, okay," Pete scoffs. "You do remember that you suck at lying, right? Besides, I heard you talking to him."

Patrick shakes his head. "Pete, I'm telling you, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You've got quite the filthy mouth," Pete says slyly, and Patrick feels a sick chill pass over him. "'Oh, yeah,'" Pete moans, laughing, "'oh, Jason, gonna fuck you so hard--'"

Andy's giggling; Joe just looks confused. Patrick, though, is _livid_. He's not even sure he has it in him to be embarassed, he's so angry. He can feel his skin flush, up from his chest over his neck and face, and he's almost dizzy with it.

Pete's still going, really getting into the joke--"'your tight ass, yeah--'" and Patrick very carefully stands up and walks out of the room without saying anything. He grabs his keys and his phone at the door, ignoring Joe calling after him, and pushes blindly out into the night. Slamming the door isn't nearly as satisfying as he wants it to be, but it's a start.

It's cold out at this hour, not just fall-chilly but real, biting cold, and there's enough wind to cut through Patrick's denim jacket and needle his skin. It's miserable weather and it fits his mood perfectly, echoing his irritation and feeding it back to him.

Patrick keeps trying to be angry at Pete--he can't believe Pete would mock him over this! Except, well, okay, Pete doesn't know about this. He wasn't _actually_ mocking Patrick, just teasing him good-naturedly about his supposed boyfriend.

Patrick is angry, but not at Pete. He's angry at himself for being careless, for letting Pete find out, and he's angry at himself for being embarassed. It isn't anything to be ashamed of, so why is he so upset at the idea of getting caught?

They already know he's gay, so it's not that. And--granted that both Pete and Andy are straightedge, but they're not exactly uptight. Joe's so laid-back he's practically comatose; he can't imagine any of them judging him. But... it's tangled up in his head, somehow, the job and the secrets and _Pete_. And that makes sense--Patrick's upset because the guys finding out what he's doing for rent money is too close to them finding out about his stupid thing for Pete. And yeah, he's mad at himself for that, too, for making this whole thing about Pete in the first place, for being dumb enough to let himself go there when he knows it's never going to happen.

He's been walking for an hour at this point, and he's calmed down enough to pull out his phone and read the texts that have been coming in steadily.

_awww dont be mad Trick_

_only joking, you know we dont care right_

_Patriiiiiiiiiick dont be mad at me Im sorry_

_dude r u ok dont be mad its just pete, hes an asshole_

_andy & I kicked his ass for u_

_come home Patrick I wont make fun of you anymore_

_Im worried where are you, your mom will kill me if I lose you Patrick_

_u dont have 2 cum bk but tell us if ur ok pls hes freakin out_

_Trick Im sorry please be okay I love you Im sorry_

_@ least tell me ur ok so i cn keep him from going looking 4 u_

Patrick replies to the last text-- _Im fine, just needed to clear my head_ \--and deletes the rest. The cold Chicago air is helping but he still feels overheated, flush with righteous anger and humiliation.

He turns down Broad Street and the wind shifts, attacking him side-on; Patrick shoves his fists deeper in his pockets and hunches his shoulders. This is stupid, he reasons. He's going to have to go home sooner or later; all he's accomplishing at this point is freezing to death. He only makes it a couple more blocks before he gives in and turns for home.

Pete is waiting for him when he gets there, hunched on the front stoop with his hands tucked up the sleeves of his threadbare hoodie. He's got to be freezing, and knowing that he's done it to himself as penance doesn't make Patrick any less exasperated with him.

"Go inside, Pete," he sighs.

Pete looks up at him mournfully. "I was waiting for you," he says.

Patrick sighs again and sits down next to Pete on the step. "Can you just... give it a rest with the whole kicked puppy routine? I'm not even mad at you."

Pete butts his head against Patrick's shoulder and sniffles dramatically. "Sure seemed mad when you ran away from home," he mutters.

"I wasn't," Patrick insists, and then reconsiders. "Or, I was. But I'm not. I thought about it, and you know, you didn't do anything wrong, so. No point being mad."

Patrick can feel Pete grin agains his shoulder and the quick sharp scrape of teeth as Pete nips him playfully. "Never stopped you before," he teases, and then looks up into Patrick's eyes, suddenly serious. "What _did_ I do?"

Patrick cocks his eyebrows at Pete. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, alright." Pete shrugs. "You just--I mean, you do know we don't care, right? Or, like, we do, we're _happy_ for you, but we're not freaked out that you're gay."

Patrick laughs, sharp and just a little bitter. Pete looks so earnest, and Patrick can't figure out when he got so damn jaded. "Of course you're not," he says. "of course, you're all so supportive and so open-minded you don't even care that--" he chokes on the words, on frustration with himself that he keeps trying to take out on Pete.

"That what, Patrick?" Pete prompts gently.

"Nothing," Patrick says. "Nothing. I'm not mad at you. You didn't do anything wrong. And I'm not--I don't have a boyfriend. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Pete says, "sure, Patrick. Sorry."

"Don't--" Patrick shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I just lost my shit a little, I guess."

They sit in silence for a minute until Patrick starts fidgeting. Sometimes he kind of wishes he smoked, just to give him something to do with his hands. Pete reaches over and grabs his fingers. "Sorry," Patrick says reflexively.

"It's fine," Pete says. "Can you just tell me what's going on? Please?" Patrick starts to shake his head in denial and Pete continues, "I heard you talking to someone, Patrick. If you don't want to admit it I can't make you, but... I just want you to tell me about him, I just want to know he's a good guy."

Patrick winces. He's never been able to hold fast in the face of Pete's honest, genuine concern for his well-being. "He's not my boyfriend, Pete," he says, and as Pete's face starts to fall into wounded disappointment, he rushes forward: "He's a customer. It's my job."

There's a moment of silence, and then Pete whispers, wide-eyed with shock, "You're a _hooker?_ "

Patrick punches him in the shoulder. "No, you asshole! I'm--it's phone sex."

Pete stares at him. "Like. Like, 1-900-SEXCHAT or something?"

"Yes, Pete, exactly like that. Can you _please_ not be a dick about this?" Patrick is glad to have it out in the open--granted, he's only told Pete so far, but it's only a matter of time now--but that doesn't mean he wants to listen to Pete turn this into his favorite joke.

"I'm not! I'm not trying to?" Pete tries, his hands held up in a peacekeeping gesture. "I have... questions."

"Yeah, no kidding," Patrick grumbles, but makes a "go ahead" motion with his hand.

"How are you a _phone sex operator_ , dude? Did some, like, creepshow talent scout discover you at a show or something?" Pete sounds equal parts curious and pissed off, like he's going to track this hypothetical pervert down and beat the crap out of him to defend Patrick's virtue.

"Uh, no," Patrick says, disturbed at how Pete's brain works. "I answered an ad on Craigslist. And the pay was good. And. Um, it turned out to be pretty easy."

Pete shakes his head. "So, what, you just... pretend to have sex with dudes? For money?"

Patrick shrugs. "Look, I don't have a lot of marketable skills, okay? I needed something with flexible hours, and I'm not qualified for a whole lot. Working at the Treasure Island bagging groceries for $5.15 an hour wasn't going to pay the rent, okay?"

"We could've worked something out," Pete protests. "Joe and I--"

"Look, it's not that big a deal," Patrick says. "This isn't _Pretty Woman_ , okay? I'm not turning tricks for drug money or whatever. I answer phones on an adult chat line. I don't need you to rescue me from that, okay?"

Pete still looks dubious. "Okay," he says, "but, like--if you change your mind, or if you want to quit--"

"Then I will," Patrick promises him, "even if I have to borrow money or move back home or whatever. "

"Okay," Pete says again, and then, like he's convincing himself, "Okay. It'll be a good story for _Behind the Music_ , right?"

"Right," Patrick says, setting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up off the step. He holds out a hand to pull Pete up. "Come on, let's go inside. You've got to be freezing."

Pete hoists himself up on Patrick's grip and then pauses, holding onto Patrick's hand in the chilly evening air. "Trick..." he says, like he wants to ask for something, but then he just leans in and kisses Patrick, soft and warm and familiar. He pulls back and looks up at Patrick through his bangs. "Can I call you?"

It takes Patrick a second to process the question. When he realises what Pete's asking, his stomach drops. "That's not funny," Patrick says, his voice shaking. "It's not--can you for once not turn this into a _joke_ , Pete?"

Pete frowns at him. "Why do you always think I'm joking?"

Patrick runs his fingers through his hair and pushes up his glasses. "Jeez, Pete, I don't know, maybe because you just asked if you could call me on a _phone sex line_? How am I supposed to take that if not as a joke?"

Pete laughs quietly. "I don't know, Trick," he says, shrugging. "Maybe you could trust that I'm being serious, just this once?" He brushes another kiss across Patrick's mouth and goes inside. He's in bed by the time Patrick gets upstairs.

Things are awkward the next morning; Patrick is used to blowing off Pete's shenanigans but something about last night is sticking in his mind. For some reason, it's not as easy for him to shrug this off as just Pete being... Pete. It's not that he thinks Pete was being sincere, it's just--there was something significant there, underneath the bullshit. Patrick's just not sure what it was.

So things are awkward that morning, and they probably would've kept on being awkward, except Pete leaves that afternoon, heading up to Saginaw with his family to visit relatives. Pete's Aunt Joyce and Uncle Alan are nice enough, but they don't have any kids and their furniture's covered in plastic. Patrick knows that after a day or two, Pete will be crawling the walls trying to keep from destroying something just to break the monotony.

He waits until Monday night, when Joe's at work and Patrick has already retreated to his bedroom for the evening. It's stupid to be nervous, he tells himself, nothing he hasn't done a thousand times before, and it's _Pete_ , not like he needs to impress him. Still, it takes a couple of tries before he can force himself to dial the phone.

"Hey," Pete says, sounding surly and bored. Sulking already, Patrick thinks, that's worse than usual.

"Hey," he says. "Bored already?"

Pete huffs into the phone. "Do _you_ want to hear about Aunt Joyce's luncheon for Friends of the Library?"

Patrick grins. "Hey, that's important work," he says, and then, because he's met Joyce and Alan, "besides, would you rather hear about your uncle's golf game?"

"Ugh," Pete shudders. "Come get me, Patrick. Save me from these people!"

"Aw, are you lonely?" It's meant to come out teasing, but Patrick's voice drops at the end, comes out low, almost husky. He closes his eyes and thinks, _maybe he won't notice_.

Really, he should know better. Nothing in Patrick's life is that easy, especially not since Joe introduced him to Pete fucking Wentz. There's a heavy pause, and Patrick's just about to say something, _anything_ to break that tension, when Pete speaks up.

"I--I really am," he says, sounding tentative & careful, like he's not sure this is going where he thinks it is, and he's trying not to scare Patrick off. Which, Patrick thinks, is probably pretty accurate. "Can you... talk to me?" he continues, slowly. "Keep me company? So I won't be lonely anymore."

Patrick is flushed and abruptly aware that he's breathing fast and shallow, like he's been running a race instead of just lying here. He presses his face into the cool cotton of his pillow, toes his socks off and holds his breath for ten seconds. _Just a job,_ he thinks, _it's just a job like any other job, you can do this._ "Yeah," he says, blurting it out before he can second-guess himself. "I could do that for you." Already he's feeling calmer, more detached as his voice slides into the breathless, anticipatory tone he thinks of as his "work voice." "What do you want to talk about?" he asks, giving the customer a chance to set the scene.

"Oh fuck," Pete says, "really? You're not--don't be messing with me."

He's not giving Patrick a lot to work with, but Patrick's not phased; sometimes they don't stick to the script, especially first-timers. He knows how to guide the call back on course. "Hey," he says, "don't be nervous, it's cool. What should I call you?"

There's a pause and a sharp laugh from the other end of the phone. "Uh, what?"

"What's your name?" Patrick asks patiently. "You can make one up if you want, or you can tell me your real one, but I have to call you something, don't I?"

"What, no, Patrick, _no_ ," Pete's babbling, and Patrick feels that icy sick sensation in his stomach again. Oh god, he's read it wrong, Pete really was kidding, he's made a total ass of himself--" _Patrick_ ," Pete says, "I don't want--not like that, okay? I don't want to have creepy anonymous phone sex I have to pay for. I want, you know. Dorky awkward hot phone sex with _you_."

Patrick swallows hard before responding. "What," he manages.

"I mean, not just that," Pete continues, "I want dorky awkward hot in-person sex too. But that's kind of hard when I'm in Michigan, you know, and I don't want to wait until I get home because I _know you_ , you're going to overthink it and change your mind, which is a _mistake_ , Patrick, because this is going to be awesome."

"Pete..." Patrick doesn't even know where to start. "You can't just--"

" _No_ ," Pete interrupts, "see, you're doing it already, that's not fair, Patrick. You can't change your mind when I'm not there to convince you not to."

"That makes no sense," Patrick protests, but he's grinning, because it's Pete, so of course it does.

"It does," Pete says, and Patrick can hear the smile in his voice, too. "You know I'm right about this, you just don't want to admit it because you hate being wrong. And you were. Wrong," he clarifies. "I told you I was serious."

Patrick laughs. "Oh, of course, I should've seen that right away," he starts, but Pete interrupts him again.

"Patrick, seriously," he says, "seriously, we're totally going to have phone sex now, right?"

Patrick rolls his eyes. "Seriously?" he says.

"And then in-person sex later?" Pete is completely undaunted by Patrick's (feigned, he's man enough to admit it) lack of enthusiasm. "Sex and cuddling, Patrick," he says, as though that seals it, as though Patrick couldn't possibly argue with that.

The thing is, Patrick's not really sure he wants to argue. That actually sounds like a pretty good deal. "I think I'm spending too much time around you," he says, and Pete laughs, because he knows that means yes. "For real, though," Patrick says, "you know how bad this could get if we fuck it up?"

"We're not going to," Pete says simply. "Stop worrying, Stump, and tell me what you're wearing."


End file.
